


Eggplant Parmesan

by theothardus



Series: Eggplant Parmesan [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theothardus/pseuds/theothardus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: The Elrics have to make due when they can’t go to Pinako’s for dinner.<br/>Note: This contains parental!EdWin.<br/>Disclaimer: I. Do not own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is part one of a two-part series. Just a little drabble. Inspired by a food that my mom makes all the time; it's my favorite. 
> 
> (And yes, part two will contain a major character death. /lovin'theangst)

XXX

A storm went wild on that day—ripping the shingles from their roof, making the windows tremble with its deafening roar. There was no way that the Elrics could take a fifteen minute walk to Granny’s house in the face of this storm. Not without catching pneumonia, or risk running into one of Resembool’s famous tornadoes, that is.

Ed hissed under his breath. His taste buds lamented the loss of Granny’s ragout—the best stew Amestris had to offer, diced with tomatoes and mutton, stirred with an assortment of spices, some imported from Aerugo—as well as her special honey rolls… flaky and buttery like a biscuit, yet carrying the perfect amount of sweet, like a spoonful of rice pudding.

Mmmm. Rice pudding. Another lip-smacking recipe crafted by the Rockbell family. It may look like a bunch of milk curds, but it was nothing like milk itself. Even if it did have that stuff in it. He still found that aspect hard to swallow.

Damn! All of this thinking about dinner with Pinako was making pneumonia and tornadoes sound tempting. Ed _knew_ he should have talked Winry into getting a car!

“There’s no way we can leave the house tonight,” his wife observed, wiping the condensation from the window and narrowing her eyes so she could get a good view of the grass planes outside. Despite her efforts, she could hardly see anything. A shadow was cast over Resembool like no other, and the rainfall made everything blurry.

Their second-born pouted, audibly moaning in distress. “But I wanna go to _Granny’s_ ,” Wendy whimpered, “I wanna _go_ , mama!”

“I know, sweetie, but it’s not safe to go outside,” Winry explained in a way that her five-year-old could understand. “And besides, we go there almost every night. Won’t it be nice to have dinner here?”

Wendy answered with another pout. Before her mother could try to persuade her, Ed intervened. Reluctantly, sure. But, nonetheless, intervened.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket to lightly pat her head. “We can go tomorrow, Wendy.” Putting an effort into letting the corners of his lips tug north, he tried to look convincing, but even he wasn’t convinced.

It wasn’t until he and Winry scavenged through the cabinets and the fridge, only to realize that they didn’t have _crap_ , that he began to regret that act. Yeah, tornadoes and pneumonia sounded pretty good right now.

“Well, we have eggs…” Winry pulled out the container, but as she started to count them, she realized that there were three-too-many people in this family.

“And ground beef,” Ed added, taking a peek into the cooler that they stored their meat in. “’Though, I’m not sure if it’s any good…”

Theo, who was the only child to make an appearance in the kitchen (and was notably supposed to be watching the twins), slipped between his mom’s legs, reaching into the fridge and grabbing something that sparked his curiosity.

“What’s this?” he mused, poking the purple, oddly-shaped vegetable. “It looks funny.”

“Huh?” Winry blinked down at the seven-year-old, partly wondering how long he had been there. “Oh, that’s eggplant. Put that back, honey.”

“Eggplant?” His face twisted as if he were sucking on a lime. “But it’s… not an egg. It looks more like a plant to me. But plants aren’t purple. Why is it purple, mama?”

While he left it to Winry to answer one of Theo’s many questions, Ed scrambled through the kitchen, finding nothing but a stale bag of chips, a box of cereal, a few cans of tomato sauce, some dairy he would prefer not to touch, a quarter-loaf of bread that they had used for lunch earlier that day, and what was left of the parmesan cheese.

Ed plopped against the chair in defeat. “When was the last time you went grocery shopping, woman?”

By now, Theo was sent off to babysit the twins once again. Winry could detect the irritation in her husband’s voice, which only led to her getting defensive.

“What, like it’s _my_ fault we don’t have anything to eat?” She set a hand on her hip, but continued to search in the freezer.

He shrugged. The irritation did not fade. “Well, yeah.”

She sent a vexed glare his way, but that didn’t intimidate the man, mostly because he wasn’t paying attention to it. She then countered, “If you didn’t insist we go to Granny’s for dinner so much, then we wouldn’t be having this problem!”

Ed jumped a little at her sudden growl, but that didn’t eliminate his empty stomach. “If you weren’t so obsessed with your job, we could have left earlier and been at Granny’s before the storm even started!”

This time, she swung around and fisted both hands in her hips. “I’m not ‘obsessed’, I just want my work to be fine quality! Why is that such a problem with you?!”

“You’re a work-a-holic!”

“You’re an insensitive jerk!”

“At least I’m not the one— _oof!_ ”

For once, the woman didn’t have a wrench in tow, so she threw the eggplant instead. It was perfectly heavy—just enough force would give him a bump to the head. Judging from the way his hand covered his forehead, it probably did.

While Winry continued throwing curses and screaming sermons at the man, a light bulb flickered above his crown. An idea was in motion. He had no time to curse back at the woman, no time at all. A smile invaded his frown as he leaped up and grabbed hold of the eggplant.

“That’s it!” He ran out of the kitchen, and for a minute, Winry thought he wouldn’t come back. Just as she was about to follow, he came rushing back in, an alchemy book in hand. He set it on the counter, flipping it open to what seemed to be the bookmark. The bookmark was a folded piece of pink paper, which he appeared to be more interested in than the book itself.

The blonde was peeking over his shoulder, trying to get a clear view of what he was up to. She even attempted to push him aside, but his stance was indomitable. Twenty-six-year-old Edward was significantly tall, too.

“Okay,” he muttered, his restored finger tracing the different things listed on the paper. In a flash, he was going back and forth between the spices cabinet and the fridge. “We’ll need olive oil, onion, garlic, tomato sauce, red peppers— _damn, we don’t have red peppers_ —tomatoes, parsley, oregano, basil, black pepper, breadcrumbs, butter, eggs, mozzarella, ground beef, and of course, eggplant!”

In the meantime, Winry stepped forward and held up the pink paper, ignoring the man’s rambles as she read through the list herself. It was none other than a recipe, written in Granny’s handwriting, titled as _Eggplant Parmesan_.

She then became nervous. Ed was exceptionally good with breakfast, and could fix up a decent sandwich for lunch, but when it came to dinner food, she would rather leave the serious cooking to her and Pinako. The idea of Ed making dinner—and eggplant parmesan, at that—set an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

“Erm… Ed? Are you sure about what you’re doing?” she inquired, the words coming out slowly.

He was busy getting the pot going and preheating the oven, but that didn’t stop him from answering, “Hell yes! That old hag gave me a recipe a while ago, and I totally forgot about it until now! She said it’s the perfect scrap food. Back during the recession, when she was broke or something, she said. Helped feed her family, she said. An’ I know how much you loved that stuff when we were younger, so…”

She never knew he could multi-task the way he did. He was rushing, too, gathering all of the supplies so fast that he stumbled over the tiled floor and knocked a few chairs over. The flickering light in the kitchen caused by the storm helped add to the chaotic effect.

Sighing, she slapped the paper to her forehead, as if relieving a migraine. Just what would the children be forced to eat? However it may come out, the little ones couldn’t afford to be picky. For the sake of his feelings, she couldn’t, either.

“What’s Daddy doing?” Wendy was suddenly beside her mother, trying to shoo-off her little brother, who stood curiously at the kitchen entrance in that cute four-year-old way.

“He’s…” A sweat trickled past Winry’s eyebrow. “…He’s trying to do something nice for us. I think. _Or maybe something nice for himself…_ ” She mumbled the last part, her eyelids dropping.

Amidst the chaos, Ed stopped for a moment. He waved an excessive grin at his wife and attentively kissed her temple. “It won’t take long, I promise. Go tell the kids that we’ll be eatin’ in no time!”

Little Wendy hobbled up and down in excitement, her blonde pigtails following suit. Edward snickered and picked up his daughter with one strong but gentle arm, carrying her over to the stove where he used his other arm to stir the tomato sauce in the pot, bouncing her lightly and humming made-up tunes simultaneously.

Winry smiled at the sight, her heart getting just a little bit warmer, even in the cool draft of the weather. As she headed out of the kitchen, she took little Al’s hand, wanting the company while she checked on Theo and the twins.

XXX

As they gathered around the table, all seven of them, the smell was undeniably alluring. Who could deny the aroma of smoky tomato, oregano, and basil? The kids were just glad to be shutting up their growling stomachs, but Winry remained skeptical. After fastening Aria into her highchair, she took Ezra from Theo’s arms, doing the same. Meanwhile, Ed crept up behind her, wearing two oven mitts that held a baking dish full of the main course.  He set it in the center of the table before she could turn around.

The kids would receive a glass of milk, all but Aria, who constantly spat out the opaque substance—something that worried Winry. (Breastfeeding was especially difficult in the months while Aria was an infant. Her solution to the problem was to make a special formula for Aria, one that she took a liking to, and secretly mix some milk in it with the year old being none the wiser.)

Ed surprised his wife with a glass of wine, set aside for just the two of them. After getting the little ones situated, Winry took the nearest spot to Aria, making sure that she was fed properly, while Ed took the nearest spot to Ezra, doing the same job with less work. By this time, everyone had dug in to the eggplant parmesan… everyone except Winry.

“You gonna eat, Win?” Edward spoke, noticing her untouched plate.

The mechanic was in the middle of feeding her daughter a spoonful of tomato, caught off guard by the question. “Uhn… Sorry, I was too busy getting Aria to eat hers.”

“You gotta eat, mommy!” Alexander exclaimed, pointing his fork full of food at Winry. “’S good! ‘S really good!”

Ed nodded in approval, basking in the compliment of his four-year-old son. Quite surprising it was, indeed, to have little Al’s approval, who was the pickiest of the bunch.

“Alright…” Winry gulped. She braced herself, but promised that, no matter what, she would put on a face as if it were good, even if it stroked Ed’s growing ego.

In one motion, she looked it over—which, really, it looked just like the stuff Granny used to make—stabbed it with her fork, and forced it into her mouth. One chew, two chews, three chews…

By the third chew, she perked upright. Her eyes lit up. Huh, well would you look at that. It wasn’t half bad. Actually, it was better than half bad. It was positively delicious! Who knew Edward Elric could be such an excellent cook!

Ed didn’t have to ask her how it tasted. He knew the answer by the way she stuffed her face. Before taking a swig of his wine, an all-knowing grin stretched from ear to ear.

He could provide for his family too, if he wanted.

_**Fin.** _


	2. Permanent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is permanent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little late, considering that I planned to post this on Thanksgiving. It seemed fitting to finish the Eggplant Parmesan series on such a holiday. BEWARNED, because this chapter has a few limes. No sex (though there are implicatons), just nudity. So yeah. Just a little disclaimer. Enjoy the drabbles of the Elric family.~

 

**XXX**

The soles of his feet sunk into the mud. It had rained the day before, and the day before that, and the day before the day before that. One could tell—puddles resided on any pavement available; the leaves on trees were a darker green than the norm and the trunk was soft, tiny droplets of dew clinging to the grass. There was still a scant amount of clouds in the sky.

This was the quiet before the storm.

Edward had five people to visit today. Each visit required him to crouch down and set flowers before the person, with an added, longing stare at the names carved into the stone. He took the twins with him this time. Theo, Wendy, and Alexander were too old now to eagerly tag along like they used to. Ezra and Aria weren’t exactly little anymore, but they were just young enough to show interest in their father’s errands.

When they were all young, at one point or another, they would point at the names on the graves at the cemetery and ask who it was, but Aria didn’t seem to remember those days, genuinely curious of each grave they stood in front of.

“Who’s that?” she asked her dad, sans the pointed finger. Aria clung to his sleeve, even at ten-years-old, being the daddy’s girl she always was. Ezra stood on the other side of his father, hands casually stuck in his pockets, not needing the extra touch of his dad unlike his fraternal sister.

“You don’t remember? That’s your mother’s parents.” Ed smiled down at her. “They were good people…”

His stare transferred back to the gravestones, looking back on faint memories of his surrogate aunt and uncle.

“How so?” She quirked her head to the side.

His arms encircled Ezra and Aria’s shoulders, pulling them closer. “They were doctors; they saved people’s lives. They even died helping others.”

A frown drooped on her adolescent features. “That’s not fair!” she exclaimed. “Why did they die if they were doing good things?”

The man sighed. Aria was a witty girl from birth, but when it came to the facts of life, she was the most naïve of all his children.

His eyelids slanted to the tips of his toes. His voice was soft—a voice only reserved for his wife and kids. “…Sometimes good people die, and there is no just reason. They can spend their entire lives doing what’s right, but if life decides to hand them a bullet, there is nothing anybody can do to prevent it. Death is permanent… and it isn’t always reasonable.” He would know.

There was a pause; in not only speech, but movement. His daughter stared up at him, curiosity continuing to sparkle in her amber eyes, in spite of his explanation.

Finally, after the long interval, she asked, “What about bad people?”

He didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, he responded in a rather somber voice, “Let’s go.”

Arms still wrapped around their shoulders, he led his son and daughter a few rows down. Once they arrived to their second destination, Ezra was the one to knell down and set a bundle of flowers before the grave.

Ed was enveloped in melancholy at the second pair of names. All of this pain was more of a scab than a fresh wound, but with the conversation they just had, the principle ripped his scab from the flesh in one violent yank.

“That’s grandpa and grandma too, huh?” Aria noted.

“Yeah,” said he, somberly, “…That’s your grandpa and grandma.”

His children didn’t know what it was like to have grandparents. A great-grandparent, maybe. Not a grandparent. There weren’t many pictures of them, either. More of Hohenheim than Trisha, though most of those spent time collecting dust in the attic.

Him and Winry continued to live on with their lives since the Promised Day; however, there were times that they wished their parents could have been there to witness pivotal moments in their adult lives. Their wedding night, for example (Winry loved Garfiel like a parental figure and all, but her actual father walking her down the aisle would have been something special), or the birth of their first child (which would have given Hohenheim and Trisha a set feeling of nostalgia, with Pinako being the midwife of the operation—moreover, the birth taking place on a stormy day), or the knowledge Hohenheim’s sons have gained from travel, or Al’s new occupation as an alchemy professor, or Ed’s occupation as a textbook writer with occasional military side-jobs (he may no longer be a state-alchemist, or even be registered in the military, but no matter how much he hated to admit it, doing favors for the shit-faced General made him feel… patriotic).

The three re-located to their third destination.

In front of their toes, the tombstone was obviously newer, and unlike the previous graves, it lacked the ivy that grew and thrived where the stone and soil met. The letters were neatly carved, and the grass around it was sparse. A butterfly landed at the corner of the tombstone, its feeble wings giving a few flutters and its antenna twitching. It appeared as if the creature was blessing the grave—Edward’s eyes smiled at this.

Out of all their visits that day, this was the only location where his children have met the person buried seven-feet beneath. That was why, when he, Ezra, and Aria arrived to the grave-site, there were no questions. There were no comments. There was no mood of inquisitiveness in the air; just lament.

They seemed to stand there for eons. Edward was so focused on the grave and stirred up in his thoughts that he barely noticed his son and daughter crouching down, picking at the grass. He subtly figured that they got bored, which was typical for kids their age. Hands stuffed in his jean pockets, he made a note to himself that they would leave soon.

“Daddy,” a smooth voice started, reaching his keen ears. He looked down. Aria held up a handful of tiny daisies with an assortment of other flowers, which had been plucked messily. “Look! We didn’t have any flowers so I took some. I think she’ll like it.”

He smiled—that smile reserved only for his children—and took the flowers in his much bigger hands. He ruffled her crown in gratitude, responding, “She’ll love them.”

It was then that he turned to Ezra, who was still digging in the grass. As he turned to his father and sister, he scratched the back of his head.

“Erm…” He turned his body, revealing a pile of grass and dirt resting in his palm. He picked an odd-colored worm… caterpillar thing… out of it with his other hand, dangling it between his fingers. “…I found a bug.”

Dirt caked his hands, and to make the scene more hilarious, a speck of mud marked the tip of his nose and his cheek. His face became serious. He worked so hard to find that worm, damn it.

Edward and Aria drew a blank. Bursting out of the quiet, Ed let out a haughty, uncontrollable laugh. It was similar to the one that he had belted after proposing to his wife at the train station all those years ago. Aria giggled, fingers clasping over her mouth.

Arm clenching his stomach, Ed spoke through his chuckles, “Yeah, yeah… B-But I’m sure s-she would have preferred something nicer… l… like a ladybug. How ‘bout we find that?”

“Okay!” The boy became stoked, exhilarated, if you will, to go on a search for the ladybug. Before he started, he yelped a, “Here you go, dad!” and handed the worm-caterpillar-thing to Edward. The man’s butterscotch spectacles still beheld mirth, twitching as he watched the bug squirm within the creases of his palm.

He drew out, holding in a cackle, “I’ll just… put him somewhere safe.” As he began to set it on a plush piece of vegetation, Ezra stopped his search abruptly to stop his father.

“No, dad! He’ll die if you leave him there!” Ezra pointed a finger at the man’s side. “Keep him in your pocket!”

He raised his hands in the air, wearing an entertained grin. “Alright, alright.” Suppressing a sigh, he did as he was told, reluctantly dropping it in the slot of his pant leg. Hopefully Winry wouldn’t find it in his laundry later.

Aria didn’t mind helping her brother in his search, crawling all over the ground like a dog sniffing for a playmate. She sunk her fingers into the dirt. A few times she found a roly-poly, which she chucked mercilessly. She didn’t seem to show the same mercy that her brother did for living creatures, which was polar opposite from when Theo and Wendy were their age.

“I found one!” Ezra yipped in glee, jumping to his feet.

His sister was eager, pacing over to his cupped hands as she exclaimed repeatedly, “Lemme see! Lemme see!”

He pulled his hands away, shooting her a glare. “Wait! Dad gets to see first!”

As Aria began to protest, Ed waived his son off, insisting he be nice and let the girl take a look.

Ezra frowned his mother’s frown, opening his hands with a groan.

Aria’s features distorted. “Ew! That’s not a ladybug, it’s yellow!”

The boy stuck out his tongue. “Ladybugs can be yellow, stupid!”

“Nuhh-uh! It’s ugly, kill it!”

“No! I found it so now I get to keep it and name it!”

“Name it Ugly!”

“No! I’m naming it Curly!”

“That doesn’t even make sense! Name it Ugly!”

“No, his name is Curly!”

“Ugly!”

“Curly!”

Ed opened his mouth to make an “ah-ah-ah” sound, stopping the feud right there. “The point of this was to give it as a gift. Can I see it, Ezra?” He added a soft smile to this, hoping it would persuade the boy to hand it over. He did, opening his hands more to flaunt his treasure.

Suddenly, the bug’s sunny shield opened up, and with the help of the breeze, it flew out of Ezra’s clasp. The two stared with rounded eyes, watching as it landed atop of the grave.

“Well would you look at that. The little guy knew his place all along,” said Edward, the corners of his lips rising.

He stood, straightening his back. “Let’s head back home. Your mom might have something cookin’ for us, and I’m starving! What about you guys?”

The two nodded eagerly, licking their lips. Aria smacked her twin in the shoulder, shouting obnoxiously, “TAG! You’re it!”

Before Ezra could smack her back or her dad could scold her, she brushed past them, running as fast as she could. Ezra soon went after her, and Edward was left in the dust, jaw hanging to the ground. Just as he took a step forward to catch up with them, he froze.

He turned to face the grave. He had almost forgotten about the bundle of flowers nested between his fingers. His countenance melted. Being an adult didn’t make death any easier. It just helped him understand it.

He set the flowers before the grave, but kept his fingers resting on where he placed it.

“Until then, Granny.”

 

**XXX**

They passed by the Rockbell house, which was still vacant, being as how they were trying to figure out what to do with it. One option was to sell it—another was to move into it. Edward loved the home he had built for his family and all, but he felt it wouldn’t be right if they just put it into the hands of a stranger. That was the home that his wife was raised in, after all. Hell, the home that his wife’s father was raised in. It’s not like Al showed any interest in moving into Pinako’s place. He already had a going career in Central, and was probably fed up with moving after his back-and-forth commute to Xing. There was no other plausible decision. Perhaps the home that Ed and Winry were currently living in could be reserved for their children when they got older, or something.

As the three approached their current residence, a dog ran toward them, tongue and ears flapping in excitement. For a second, just a split second, Edward thought it was Den that greeted them so fondly. Another sad reminder of those that were no longer on this Earth. The pain of the canine’s passing wasn’t as fresh as the elderly woman’s—about a decade-or-so off, in fact—but _damn_ , today it hurt.

“Piglet!” Ezra cheered as he was tackled by the pit-bull, a slobbery tongue swiping across every square inch of his face. He giggled endlessly, and the more he giggled, the more excited became the canine.

Edward remembered that morning. Winry was infuriated when he brought home a Pit, given their bad rep. Little did she know how sweet and endearing the pit-bull breed can be. She took one look into those droopy cocoa eyes and opened up to the pup.

Just as Alexander came around the corner, Piglet snorted and let out a ‘woof’. The thirteen-year-old was covered in oil and grease, geared-up like his mother, bandanna and all. At the sight of his father and younger siblings, he slipped off his gloves, a look of confusion crossing his face. He had his mother’s blue eyes, but his facial features were very identical to his father.

“Where did you guys go?” he asked as he got closer, pulling to a halt when Piglet was ready to jump on him as well. He waved her off. “Down, girl.”

Before Ed could answer, Aria spoke for him. “We went on a walk to visit grandpa and grandma and grandma and grandpa. And great-grandma. Like _you_ would know, machine-freak. Do you ever see sun?” She stuck out her tongue, then shot him a look that dared him to try something.

Alexander didn’t mess with that little girl. No, he wasn’t about that life. He learned his lesson years ago. His brother, however…

Quickly, he hissed at Ezra instead, “Stop looking at me like that, you little ba—“

It was then that he could feel his father’s gaze on him, and although the man’s vocabulary was made of nothing but swear words, Alexander knew such language would earn him a nice bowl of soap-soup when his mother found out later. Or Edward would just jab his thumb in the direction of the bathroom. Alexander has tasted soap quite a few times throughout his childhood, so by now he should have understood what such innuendo meant.

His back straightened as he was quick to correct himself. “—Ba… Bad child. You little bad child. You.”

He glanced up to his dad with a nervous grin, observing to see if he pulled it off. Ed seemed to think nothing of it, but even if he did, he probably let it slide.

As they started toward the house, Edward asked his second-born son, “What have _you_ been doing all day? Don’t tell me you got into your mom’s spare automail parts again. Al, you know she hates it when you tinker with her unfinished projects—“

That’s what he assumed given the boy’s appearance, but his answer changed the assumption.

Alexander jabbed his fists into his hips proudly. “Nope! I started tinkering with that car engine Mom wanted to fix months ago.” His grin gleamed along with his words.

“Any progress?”

His grin faltered. His shoulders slumped as he answered, “Nope.”

The boy was still an amateur; true, he’s always had an intrigue with automail, but his true strive to pursue the Rockbell (now “Rockbell-Elric”) tradition in mechanics only began a year ago, if that. Ed felt sympathetic for Alexander. Just when his teacher started to show him the ropes, her desire retired. With an inner sigh, Ed hoped that she was at least out of bed today.

Edward pushed the door open, sights immediately falling on Theo.

The young man sat at the sofa, one ankle resting on his knee, holding a newspaper so large that only the fingers that held the edges and his cowlick could be seen. At the sound of a door screech, he lowered his newspaper, the material crinkling with such movement.

If it had been anyone that saw Edward at age sixteen, they would have been taken aback and wondered if they were thrown into a time machine. The only thing that would tamper with this perfect reflection was his hair of a darker shade, among a few other things.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted. His voice was a step above monotone. The pressing, straight-line of his lips revealed boredom.

“Hey,” Ed replied with just a slight more spark in his tone. Alexander urged Ezra, who was busy teasing the dog with his shoe, to come inside.

Ed was disappointed to smell nothing but pine in the house. This meant no food. He yawned, stretched, and stepped toward the couch.

“Daddy, wait—!” He heard his little Aria warn, reaching a hand out, as if it were to help his coming fate.

Just as his head turned to see what she was talking about, however, his foot stumbled over something, he lost his balance, and his cheek caught his fall as he plowed to the floor.

“God damn it, _mother f—,_ “ the poorly coordinated man hissed through his teeth, doing a painful pushup to lift his face off the ground.

As he tried to look back at what had tripped him, he growled, “What the hell was that?”

“I tried to warn you, Daddy.” Aria batted her eyelashes, pouting her lip.

Before he realized what it was, Theo spoke, hiding behind the newspaper from his father’s wrath. “Don’t ask me how she ended up there, I don’t know, I don’t ask questions.”

It was none other than his eldest daughter who had unintentionally tripped him, her ankle sticking out from beneath the table. As he took a closer look, he realized that she was buried in medical books, passed out cold.

Aria’s head cocked to the side, crawling like a crab over to Wendy. “Why is sis sleeping there? That doesn’t look comfortable. Sis? …Sis? …SIS!”

Edward groaned and stood. Huh, that was strange. Alexander and Ezra were gone. Eh, maybe they were outside or something.

_“Piglet! Get back here! My shoe!” Ezra whined and ran after the canine, or hopped, and Alexander ran after both of them, trying to tackle the dog in his pursuit to get his little brother’s shoe back._

Ed looked around and scratched the back of his head. “This place is a mess. Where’s your mother?”

Theo’s previous stiff posture softened. “Sleeping,” he mumbled.

“I see.” Ed lowered his arms and frowned, bothered by the answer. It was some time in the afternoon—she should have been awake by now. She had all yesterday to sleep, after all.

The other kids did notice something different, but Theo seemed to be the one most affected by it. He was tired of seeing his mother turning into this… this woman he didn’t know.

“Welp. Looks like I’ll be making dinner, then,” Ed stated.

Theo had his amber eyes on a particular story in the newspaper—which, unfortunately, was delivered outdated (this has been happening in Resembool for years). The title read:

_ SOLDIERS PREPARE: DRACHMA WAGES WAR? _

According to the General, whom Edward kept in normal contact with, Grunman was already sending troops up north. He could validate that before the newspaper was even shipped to the small town. Theo always prodded his father for more news, but could not get a word from his mouth. He would just ask why Theo was so interested with the military’s business in the first place. Because of this, Theo had a recent habit of eavesdropping on his dad venting to his mother about it when he got home from Mustang’s errands. Ed knew more than he could tell, that much was obvious.

The teenager tore his gaze from the story, instead turning it to his father.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Eggplant Parmesan?”

Ed smirked with pride. He barely could pull off any other dinner dishes after all, and eggplant parmesan was an Elric tradition when a storm was brewing.

“Eggplant parmesan,” he confirmed. “You kids wanna help?”

All of a sudden, Alexander and Ezra slammed the door open, both out of breath and ragged.

“Did you say eggplant parmesan?” Ezra inquired, eyes lit up.

This was followed by Alexander fist-pumping into the air, “Hell yes!”

The two boys ran past them and toward the kitchen before Edward could make a peep. Aria leaped up with glee and followed. The two that remained in the room—or at least the two that were _conscious—_ were left slack-jawed and in the dust.

Edward and Theo exchanged glances.

The older man shrugged. “All right. We can all help out.”

When Theo started to rise from his seat, Edward interjected, “Before you do that, though… Think you can wake your sister up?”

He inwardly cursed himself for being assigned such a task. He knows how she is in the mornings, and from experience, he knew that damned girl would kick and scream and do everything in her power to put him in a world of pain.

“Yeah, pops,” he gave in. Obediently but hesitantly, he started to bend down so he could reach the girl.

Edward happened to catch glimpse of the newspaper article, too.

 

**XXX**

By the time that their meal was set out to cool, the kitchen was a catastrophe. Eggshells, spilled milk, and dirty dishes were tossed all over the place. Ed would worry about that later. For now, they would feast!

Fortunately, they were stocked with plenty of groceries, so he decided to slice up some cornbread while asking Wendy to whip up some mashed potatoes. He tried to intervene a few times after having a taste test, insisting that it was too bland, so the fourteen-year-old would whack her father’s nose and scold, “You set a finger on those mashed potatoes, and your fingers will fall off.”

Her mother used the same line, but mostly on the boys of the house. It was brilliant, really, but more so for little children who actually believed it.

Ezra and Aria set the table and Theo set down the food. It all seemed perfect, except…

One member of the family was missing.

Ed allowed the rest to fill their plates, while he scooped up some eggplant parmesan from the dish and poured a glass of milk (not for him, surely), then headed upstairs.

Once he got to his bedroom door, he slowed. It was dark in the room, so it was hard for him to decipher the figure that lied beneath the bed sheets. He frowned softly, leaning against the door frame.

Taking in a breath, he moved forward until he circled around to his wife’s side of the bed. Nothing but straw strands of blonde hair stuck out from underneath the blanket. He set the plate and the glass down on her nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress took a dip from his weight, and if she wasn’t already awake, it probably woke her.

He could hear her soft breathing, as well as the blanketed form softly moving up and down with each breath. The rain pitter-pattered against the roof.

“Winry,” he whispered, setting his restored hand on top of the risen blanket. He slowly slid the blanket off of her.

Her eyes were awake as could be, as if they had been for a while. Maybe for a long while, judging from the dark circles beneath them. She owned a gentle expression that was hard to tell as to whether she was sad or didn’t feel emotion at all. Her hair was a knotted haystack, some sticking to her cheeks and chin. From what he remembered, she hadn’t showered in two days.

Smiling through not his lips but his spectacles, he wiped the hair from her face.

“You hungry? I brought you food,” he told her in just above a whisper. 

After a few seconds passed, it seemed like she wasn’t going to respond, until she sniffled and said, “Smells like parmesan.”

Her voice was ragged, a voice that he never heard escape from her throat before.

The thirty-five year old moved his eyes from her to the fists in his lap. She had no interest in continuing a conversation, or even sitting up. He couldn’t stand seeing his woman like this. Just how long would she stay in this state? It’s been three months since her grandmother’s death, which, granted, wasn’t a sufficient amount of time to get over. As long as he knew that this wasn’t permanent, he would have a piece of mind.

Of course, she put on a smile for the kids. They were the only reason she got out of bed. A fake smile and hours of endlessly tinkering with automail that wasn’t broken didn’t fool them, though.

She hadn’t visited Granny’s grave since the funeral. What’s more, the thing that truly took everyone aback was that she barely touched automail since the passing. She only dealt with one customer in months. Perhaps the fact that Pinako was the woman who introduced her to it in the first place made the subject painful.

Edward grabbed a fork and stabbed the food. When he brought it over to her, the cheese stretched and expanded.

He pushed the tip of the fork against her closed lips. “Eat.”

She stared. And stared. And finally, parted her lips to completely consume the chunk.

Not hesitating, he took another fork-full and held it out to her. This continued for minutes. When he held the glass out to her, she finally sat up, blankets falling to her hips. She grabbed the glass with both hands and drank it with fervor.

He felt happy that she had finished most of what was on her plate. Starving herself would be no option for Edward Elric.

In amidst of the quiet, he grabbed her hand, his thumb tracing the lines of her palm. It soothed them both.

After some time, he brushed his lips up against the inside of her wrist.

“You should wash up,” he suggested. It sounded more like an order.

When she didn’t answer, he helped her out of bed. “C’mon.”

Once they slipped into the bathroom, Edward turned on the water as Winry began undressing herself. Ed put his hand under the warming water, then pulled the latch to transfer the water to the upper pipes. When the shower was up and running, Winry stepped into it and Ed himself began to undress. He joined her not too long after. Nudity wasn’t anything new for them, and while it often led to it, it didn’t immediately correlate with sexual content.

Especially lately. Sex between them has been exiguous, not to mention lacking adrenaline. No, it wasn’t bad (making love was _never_ bad), it just wasn’t thrilling or adventurous or wild. Ed felt he needed to be soft, delicate, as if he were dealing with a porcelain doll. Winry would spend the duration of the time holding him with her face buried in his shoulder. It was slow, sweet, under-the-covers sex.

Winry let herself unwind under sprinkling faucet, shedding herself of that murky second skin that she has lived with for two days. As her hands moved down her neck, she arched her back, letting her hair dangle and soak in the hot rain.

Ed admired her form, but not sexually. He was in awe at her sole beauty. Like a dove, how her creamy skin dipped and curved, how her naturally pink lips, so full and plush, trembled just a little, a droplet of water dripping down her chin. He wanted to smile, but his lips were locked. Instead, he put a glob of shampoo in the center of his palm, rubbed it with both hands, and from behind her, began massaging her scalp. She purred at the feeling, eyes closed with bliss.

After rinsing, Winry turned around and returned the favor. With a soft smile that he hasn’t seen for months, she ran her fingers through his glorious Xerxesian hair, giving his head a good rub until the shampoo puffed into bubbles. He stepped closer into the falling water, rinsing it out on his own. While he did so, she took a bar of soap and rubbed one side against each hand until she had enough soap to put on an entire body (she did this to avoid the slippery annoyance of the bar of soap against skin).

He still had his head beneath the faucet, eyes and lips clenching shut, sputtering a bit when water went rushing up his nose. Taking him off guard, his wife started to run her soapy hands against his muscled chest, giving his pecks a thorough massage. He straightened his neck and stared at her. His nerves were at ease when she moved her hands to his upper arms, making her way in circles. She continued this until she arrived to his lower abdomen.

Ed could feel a wanting burn in the spot just beneath her hands. Apparently it wasn’t just a feeling, because, as she glanced down, she suppressed a giggle and shook her head, clicking her tongue.

Instead of giving in to her husband’s needs, she turned around until her back was facing him. “My turn,” she said.

He did the same with the bar of soap. Afterward he started his task in massaging her shoulder blades, over her shoulders, and down her spine. His hands swiftly grazed over her rounded behind, to her hips. By then, he forced her to turn back around. He rubbed her waist to her stomach.

Suddenly, as a caught the look on her face, a feeling overwhelmed him. He became submerged in this ocean of thought, everything else fading to a blur.

The look on her face told him that her mind was elsewhere, too. Even as they showered nude, she was still thinking about _her_. Perhaps Winry glanced at the man’s automail leg and was reminded. Perhaps it was something else.

From nowhere, his eyes began to water. Why were his eyes watering? Maybe it was the steam. _God damn it,_ it has to be the steam.

She seemingly caught wind when she met eye contact with him. The shocking sight pulled her out of ponder.

As if it were natural, she moved forward until her breasts pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her nose fit perfectly in the nape of his shoulder. On auto pilot, he snaked his arms over her hips. They molded like a perfect puzzle piece.

Wait, why was she comforting _him?_ The whole point of this was to cheer her up, so why was she the one doing the cheering?

Edward cursed himself. He should have been the one to hold her close first. Yet here he was, the wall in front of him turning into a blur and being replaced by the old bat, a pipe between her lips as Den came running to her ankles.

His eyes were overwhelmed with a salty fluid. His jaw clenched.

_Fuck! Suck it in, stupid! You’re supposed to stay strong for Winry!_

He looked up to the ceiling in agony; he was doing everything he could to prevent the tears from escaping.

“It’s okay to cry, silly,” Winry murmured against his skin, holding him closer. She herself was going to cry if he didn’t.

Those words broke him. Slowly, gradually, his face scrunched, and a few tears trickled down his cheeks. He hid such a shameful countenance in her neck. His strong arms suddenly felt fallible, quivering when he pulled her as close as humanly possible.

He had not shed a tear, not even when Pinako was buried. Winry only cried one time. Now was the moment to let their grief go. And it was released.

Ed’s hand went from her hip to the dip in her back, fingers curling desperately. If he had sufficient enough nails, he would have surely scratched her.

In all the years they were married—hell, in all the years they knew each other—she rarely saw him shed a single tear. This sensational man was as strong and sturdy as the Briggs Fort, yet he has endured the unthinkable.

She shuttered in a silent weep. For nearly a half-an-hour, they stood under the water, trembling, shaking, and lamenting to their heart’s content.

It was only until the water’s temperature dropped ten degrees that they decided to get out. Ed wrapped a towel around his waist; Winry tucked a towel around her chest-line. When the woman turned to look at him, her heart sunk with pity at the weakness he revealed in his facial features, which was hidden behind his bangs.

Like he had done before, she wiped the hair from his face, then used the nubs of her fingers to wipe his tender cheeks. The corners of his lips tugged upward as the tips of their noses touched. She returned the smile, giving him an Eskimo kiss.

Death is permanent. The leaves aren’t always green, the flowers aren’t always in bloom. Everything that lived would come to an end. And someday, they would die. Someday, their children would die. In a thousand years, everyone on the face of this planet, everyone they knew and loved and maybe even resented, would cease to exist. All they can do, right here and now, is be thankful for what they do have. Be thankful for the present.

The sun is still in the sky, is it not?

**_fin_ **


End file.
